


warmth.

by DT_Mars



Category: Teen Titans (Animated Series)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2018-08-20 14:13:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8252078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DT_Mars/pseuds/DT_Mars
Summary: Richard sets out on a journey to find his wife.





	1. Chapter 1

_warmth._

* * *

_introduction._

**_._ **

Richard's wife was a bitch.

This measly little fact always forced him to consider just how strange it was that he had been capable of falling in love with such a woman. But knowing that he had actually gone ahead and done it, when he had initially been so sure that the chances of such a thing happening should not have even existed in the first place; when it— _falling in love with her_ —simply shouldn't have been possible? Now _that_ was strange.

It wasn't like she had won him over with something as fleeting and superficial as her beauty, and this was mostly because her beauty was so subtle and so _fine_. The kind of beauty she possessed was the kind to be easily overshadowed within a restless and busy crowd. Yet as soon as someone was lucky enough to catch just one glimpse of her, they would finally see. They would see that her hair wasn't pitch-black, but that it was actually precious obsidian taken from a freshly erupted volcano. They would see that the color of her eyes were neither blue nor violet, but they were a distinct mixture of blueberries and grapes, both crushed to create a particularly aged wine. They would see that her skin was not pale, but that God Himself had taken the purest dust from the surface of the moon in order to create and form her flesh with the very tips of His fingers at the moment of her conception.

Simplicity was laced within the very confines of her beauty— _easy on the eyes_ , as some would say—almost glaringly so.

Despite this, their very first encounter had throughly convinced him that this woman was the biggest bitch that he had ever had the misfortune to come across—which certainly said something, because her stature could be described as almost infinitely tiny when compared to his own. Yet at the same time, it was this frigid personality of hers that made her seem so much bigger than she actually was; larger than life. It spritzed each and every word that came out of her mouth with a scent of importance. Each syllable dripped with melted gold and silver, jewels which would attach themselves to any ear that stood in her presence. It filled those bright eyes of hers with such character, and had them glinting with a light that both demanded and commanded the attention of everyone around her—and she kept all this attention for herself.

This light in her eyes ultimately forced Richard to resign himself to the discovery that such a cold personality really did have the potential to match a pretty face quite well, after all.

And Richard Grayson fell for this woman.

_He fell hard._

Luckily for him, she didn't mind.

As such, he was the _only_ person allowed to call her a bitch.


	2. Chapter 2

_warmth._

* * *

_one._

_**.** _

The dictatorship that Lord Trigon had imposed upon the land would be the cruelest and most corrupt imperial era ever to be recorded in history. His mere presence cast a dark and chilling shadow over his subjects, one that ensured that the reign of his power would only strengthen and endure. This influence of his steadily and gradually eased the entire empire into a state of extreme imbalance: the poor and impoverished were cemented in their state of poverty with no hope of escaping, the rich lost one pence only to gain five more shillings in its place, and the middle class broke their backs in order to keep the shaky economy from shattering—all while Lord Trigon and his men lived in luxury.

This system was unjust, blatantly so. Such an imbalance of power only served to fuel tired souls to lead revolts against the government, almost like clockwork. Each of these uprisings and revolts were terminated just as quickly as they began no matter how carefully they were planned, and the fire that sat underneath the people's hearts slowly began to die out. But a particular group of rebel militia rose up one autumn afternoon.

_Unyieldingly stark._

That was the difference between this new group's single revolt and the countless others that came before it, simply because they managed to make it onto Lord Trigon's estate. These fierce warriors sneaked their way into the castle while carefully evading the enemy, quietly taking down anyone who caught sight of them until they located the throne room. It was in this room that the rebels cast the decapitated head of a guard at Trigon's feet; this plunged everyone within the castle and on the estate into a violent and bloody battle. The rebel warriors fought on equal footing with the despot's army, thus proving themselves to be just as strong and murderous.

They made the cruel and tyrannical dictator _sweat_.

However, it wasn't enough. As strongly and impressively and valiantly as these rebel warriors fought, they were eventually outnumbered and forced to retreat. They lost many men that day, and yet the surviving fighters, a decidedly morbid bunch named it, _The Halcyon Battle_.

"It was a pretty nice day," one was quoted. "The birds were chirping and singing, the sun was out and shining without a single cloud in that blue sky, and the breeze was _just right_. I bet a young couple ran off and eloped that day, y'know? 'Cuz it was actually _so_ nice that almost all of us collectively backed out of storming the castle in favor of going skinny dipping. We got our asses handed to us, shook Trigon up a bit and lost some men, but it sure was a beautiful day. Who knows? Perhaps it was a sign from the gods."

A low and quiet sigh; almost shaky.

"A sign from the... A sign from the _gods_. Maybe we should have just stayed home."

These warriors called themselves the _Titans_ , and they swore to send Lord Trigon right back to where he came from—straight to hell. News of their defeat spread quickly throughout the empire. Yet despite this disappointing defeat, every single one of the surviving Titans were welcomed back into their hometowns with praise and accolades. No one had ever dared to challenge Lord Trigon in such a way after all, and for this, these men were revered as brave heroes. But the celebrations were short lived.

About two weeks of great reveling and celebration passed before the fierce dictator finally discovered exactly which areas of his empire each of the Titans had emerged from. Certain towns and cities were immediately placed under a lockdown of complete and total governmental security; random attacks were waged upon the known friends and families of the Titans, and even on several innocent citizens, all in an effort to draw the warriors out and force them to atone for their sins—for daring to defy their master. The knowledge of having innocent people suffer on their behalf loomed dangerously over the heads of each Titan. As such, they officially disbanded and separated. They abandoned their homes, businesses and belongings before they fled with their families, while a few chose to abandon their families in fear for their lives; some adopted new aliases and disguises, and a few even sacrificed themselves to Lord Trigon.

This was about five years ago.

A countrywide examination would be enforced at the end of each month since then, one which had been implemented by Lord Trigon, for he was sure that more of these Titans remained. It was never strange for these "street cleanings" to become violent, especially when the wrong person would be apprehended and taken directly to Lord Trigon; it was commonplace, actually. As a result, dozens of people would flee from their homes and relocate at the beginning of each month in order to avoid being caught in the crossfire between the dictator and his enemy, in fear of being mistaken for one of the legendary Titans.

And because of this, it was on the first of May that Richard met her. Their first encounter hadn't been very romantic at all, not even in the least bit. It was at a marketplace, surrounded by hundreds of people who were all pushing and shoving each other aside in a fight to complete their shopping. The spring air was also very hot and humid; a little uncomfortable, even as a few pretty flower petals floated above a few of the shoppers' heads. He remembered such a worthless fact, not because he was so enamored of her or even because he noted that she must have been a refugee, but because the ground had been hot on his ass once he had fallen after bumping into her.

' _Five seconds, five seconds, five seconds_ ,' Richard reminded himself as he scrambled to grab as many of his purchased items from the ground as quickly as he could before any wandering feet could step on them. As he reached for the two apples that were steadily rolling away from him, he glanced at the person he had bumped into. They were also on their hands and knees, reaching and grabbing for their things just as desperately as he was.

A frown tugged at Richard's lips. He had knocked such a _little_ thing over.

"Hey," he called out while dusting his apple off with the front of his tunic. "I didn't mean to knock you over. Sorry, kid."

The kid immediately snapped their head up to meet his eyes with a harsh glare. Richard's jaw almost dropped— _almost_ —because he had finally gotten a good look at this person. This person he had bumped into was simply a little _woman_ , one around his age—

"I am not a _kid_ , pretty boy."

Richard's jaw didn't drop, but he did release a huff through his nose and returned her glare. This stranger, she wasn't a kid but she certainly was a little bitch. It was a shame because she would have been a lot more than just _cute_ had it not been for that.

"Sorry," he apologized. The apology was carelessly tossed over his shoulder as he stood, merely a courtesy that his parents had ingrained into him as a child. "Your height doesn't really work in your favor."

The young woman sputtered in disbelief as she shot up to stand on her feet. Her back was erect and her chin was jutted out in an effort to muster up as much of her unimpressive height as she possibly could. " _Excuse me_?"

"Did I stutter?"

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she looked around for any spectators within the busy area. She met his eyes and stomped a foot. "You have _no_ right to speak about my height, you—you—you crooked nosed knave!"

Richard's jaw actually did drop this time. He raised a delicate finger to his nose, and he could feel his face heating up with a strange mixture of embarrassment and anger. "Excuse me?!"

" _Did I stutter_?" she mocked him. Before Richard could offer any comment or retort, she walked right past him with her nose pointed straight to the sky.

At that, their first conversation was finished. This encounter had not lasted very long at all, but it had given Richard just the right amount of information that he needed in order to determine one thing: he hated that bitch. His decision was immature and absolutely rash, he knew it, but he was quite certain that he hated her and hoped to never see her face ever again.

The universe hated Richard just as much as he hated that stranger. It seemed that the stars had aligned in order to ensure that the two enemies caught sight of one another at the very same marketplace where they first met, the next Saturday morning. While they both made sure to take care of their shopping from opposite sides of the market, Richard's resolve would strengthen each time their lines of vision met—his resolve for _victory_ , that is.

It was childish. It was _absolutely_ childish, but Richard couldn't help it. The words _lose, loss_ or _surrender_ weren't in his vocabulary, and he simply refused to be intimidated by the likes of this little woman. Thus, a little glaring match had officially been instated between the two. It began whenever they managed to spot each other in the market and ended with whoever finished up with their shopping first. This— _stupid_ —game continued for three more consecutive Saturdays before they finally spoke for the second time, on the fourth Saturday.

Richard grabbed for a grapefruit, just as a second hand grabbed for it. He looked up to find that the perpetrator and potential thief was none other than the bitch herself—and she was shopping on the _wrong side of the battlefield_. She should have been all the way on the opposite side of the market and glaring at him from afar, just like she always was. She was not supposed to be on _his_ side, grabbing for the same fucking grapefruit that he was intending to bring back home with him.

"I grabbed it first!" they both declared in the midst of the rowdy and noisy marketplace.

The two enemies started with shock. Their eyes were wide and their mouths were slightly agape, before they mustered up the determination that was necessary for this battle.

"No!" they continued simultaneously. " _I_ did! Just give me the grapefruit!"

Richard was sure that she noticed just how silly and immature they both sounded, because he certainly did. So, even with every fiber of his being contesting and each uncomfortable churn of his guts, he made the decision to release the fruit into her hand with a growl of pure frustration. She stumbled back with wide eyes, full of surprise.

"Fine!" he conceded. "Just take the stupid grapefruit! I didn't want it anyway!"

Suspicion lined her eyes as she watched him. Her fingers slowly and carefully curled around the fruit before she held it close to her chest with a smug, " _Hm_!" The young woman placed the grapefruit into her basket at that. She turned her nose up and walked past him without a second glance in his direction— _just like the first time_ —as a little smirk played at her lips.

The sight of that little smirk forced Richard to realize that he had just given the competition up, right into her little manicured fingers with that very fruit. And _losing_ simply was not up for discussion; not with this woman.

"What?" The word left Richard's mouth before he could even catch it. He turned around just in time to see her retreating figure hesitate a bit in its step. "You're not even going to try to offer it back to me?"

She spun so fast on her heel to face him that it was pretty amazing she hadn't incited any smoke to lift from the ground under her feet. The little stranger watched him carefully, her dark eyes so cold and calculating that he swore a chill slithered down his spine. She took one step toward him while rolling her tongue around in her mouth, as if she was fighting to control it. " _Why_ would I do that when you gave it to me? _You_ told me to take it. You just said that you didn't even want it, _knave_."

Richard fought the urge to touch his nose. He took a step forward. "Yeah, well, I lied. It's called being courteous, so be courteous back!"

She stomped a foot in frustration. "Are you stupid?!"

He sputtered. "What kind of question is that?! How the hell do you expect for me to respond?!"

"It is a perfectly reasonable question and I expect you to respond with a simple, _yes_! Because you _are_ stupid!" A harsh growl slipped past her throat and clenched teeth before she stuck a hand into her basket and began to rummage around in it. She yanked the grapefruit out and held it out for him to see.

Something deep inside of Richard—common sense, the angel on his right shoulder, God—told him that he should have just lost.

Her eyes narrowed dangerously with spite. "Here it is. Take this _stupid_ grapefruit if you want it so badly!"

Her hand reeled back.

Richard's eyes widened, right before he ducked.

_Splat!_

" _Ugh_!" a voice snapped in disgust.

Richard slowly rose to stand at his full height. He turned to see a middle aged man standing behind him, picking at the grapefruit juice which had exploded all over his clothing.

"Who?!" the man demanded the entire marketplace as the incessant noise threatened to drown his voice out. He looked around for any culprits lurking within the busy area, his eyes darting about with anger. "Who did this to me?! Reveal yourself, coward!"

Richard was ready to sing like a canary and snitch like he had been apprehended by the authorities. He almost broke his neck to look at the young woman. She had a hand clasped over her mouth, her eyes wide with shock and shame.

' _Good_ ,' he thought to himself a bit bitterly. He had lost a good grapefruit, after all. ' _At least she's got the decency to have some shame_.'

She met his eyes, and something in Richard shifted.

A— _long_ —second passed.

They both pointed a finger at an oblivious youth.

"It was him!" the two declared.

As the grumbling grapefruit man made his way to confront the unfortunate youth, both Richard and the young woman made their quick escape and sneaked out of the marketplace. _Together_. In just one split second the two enemies had been forced to become comrades, and strangely enough? As the two walked side-by-side, the sounds of the marketplace that they had abandoned growing suspiciously louder behind them with each step they took, he discovered that he was completely fine with that.

The young woman stopped walking, forcing him to follow suit. She raised a hand to scratch at the back of her neck a bit nervously, her eyes darting around before she finally met his eyes. "Ah... thank you for that. I'm sorry for almost hitting you in the head with a grapefruit. _Heh_ "—she gave a short and apprehensive chuckle, before clearing her throat—"That would have _really_ hurt."

The tone of her deep and raspy voice finally registered in his ears. Perhaps she had been a colicky child, or maybe she just didn't speak much. Richard dismissed the thought, choosing to respond to her apology with an eloquent, "Of course it would have hurt. It's a grapefruit, little one."

The hand that had been scratching at her neck fell to her side and she resumed walking with a roll of her eyes. "My name is Raven. Not 'little one'."

The corners of his mouth curved up just a bit as he watched her walk away; he had to admit that it was a pretty nice sight. He shook that off to catch up to her. "Richard. Not 'crooked nosed knave'."

She turned her head to look at him. Her eyes grazed over his nose for a short moment, before she simply shrugged and looked away to rummage through her shopping basket. "Funny. I think that ' _crooked nosed knave_ ' fits you much better."

Richard opened his mouth to say something about her height.

Raven pulled a little red fruit out of her basket and offered it to him. A tiny smile adorned her lips as she met his eyes. "Strawberry?"


	3. Chapter 3

_warmth._

* * *

_two._

_**.** _

'Little one' soon became a term of endearment. The levels of comfort which flourished between the two of them developed not too long after her little peace offering. This was a friendship that came fairly quickly, surprisingly enough; a bond that strengthened quite steadily with each passing day and moment that they spent together—and this was simply because this little woman _drew_ Richard to her. The way that she soaked his energy up and merged it with her own magnetic aura, she was like a sponge; pulling him to her and ensuring that he would never even think of allowing anyone else to consume any of his free time or thoughts.

Spending so much time with her like this, it forced Richard to realize that she was even more annoying than he had originally assumed. Except this was no longer an agitating or irritating annoyance. This was an endearing sort of annoyance instead, an almost _cute_ sort of annoyance. It made him want to tease and bother her for hours on end, like an immature teenager—and he did exactly that—just so she would show him that blazing _fire_ in her eyes, before she retaliated and enticed him into a stupid argument.

Raven had a tendency to stomp her foot whenever she was losing one of these stupid arguments, or whenever she was simply frustrated; a childish habit she'd neglected to tend to as she grew older. It was always her left foot, he observed, a way for her to impose as much authority and fear as she could with her diminutive stature. He would never tell her this, but she never really _needed_ to do that with him—never with Richard. All she had to do was say one word or just look at him, and she would have his full attention. All of this attention and time and energy, every bit of it that she was unwittingly requesting of him, he placed it all into her hands. Always and readily. He was happy and content to give this all away to her.

_Her_. Her, and only her.

It took about two months for Richard to finally realize what this all meant:

_She had him_.

Richard's family tree was absolute and utter mayhem. It was a messy hodgepodge of both adopted and biological siblings, all reared and cared for by his adoptive father and grandfather, all of whom immediately accepted Raven. This was a fact that her very first visit with them at their childhood home had cemented. They would constantly badger and question Richard on when her next visit would be if she ever neglected to see them for more than three days. They would beg and plead for her to stay past the strict curfew her mother had instated, whenever they did see her. His family couldn't get enough of Raven and yet at the same time, her mother, a very serious and solemn woman, barely tolerated Richard for the sake of her daughter. It was such a strange balance of things and people that managed to work out perfectly.

_And she had him_.

This was such a strange thing for him to take into account after spending just two months together, when they had been strictly enemies for one full month before this. He had already suspected what _it_ all was, but he was incredibly reluctant to accept it. This was the very same woman who had called him a crooked nosed knave after their first conversation and threw a grapefruit at his head in the middle of their second, after all. But at the same time, it wasn't very hard for him to admit to himself that the current situation had certain wisps of inevitably swirling all around it.

They had _chemistry_ —the two of them clicked, and she constantly drew him to her.

It became increasingly difficult to support this denial of his the more time they spent together. He would share the most personal and intimate things about his past and about himself with her, something that was completely out of character for him—but he simply couldn't help how _comfortable_ he was with her. It was through this growing comfort that he would grow with her and _because_ of her, and it was so hard for him to deny anything or any of it because _it was her_. This woman was all encompassing, and he was all too glad to allow her to swallow him up, just so he could be lost in her world; lost in her.

_But Raven had him, she absolutely did_.

And on their third month together, they kissed.

It was mid-August when he took her to see the lake that was hidden deep within the forest behind his home, late in the evening and almost nearing the hour of her curfew. The stars always seemed to shine much brighter during the summer months than they did for any other month, and there was a little groove in the land over there that allowed every inch of the sky to be seen and clearly displayed. He suspected that she would enjoy this very much.

"Wow," Raven breathed. Her eyes were wide with wonder as she watched the sky, a little smile curving her lips. "This entire place, it's beautiful."

Richard agreed with a nod. The corners of his own lips curled up with amusement as he watched her. It was nice to see her like this; so relaxed and so open and so at ease. It was even nicer to know that drawing such a reaction out of her was all of his doing. "I used to visit this place with my parents."

"Oh."

The tender sympathy broke through the deflection in her voice, giving way for an almost physical incarnation of empathy. It touched him, and he could feel it. She knew the story of his biological parents and about the terrible deaths that they both suffered, he told her all of it. Her smile faltered—just a bit—before it returned. The curving of her lips was much softer this time, much gentler, before she mused aloud:

"This is why your home is built so close to this place, then."

Although her gaze was trained onto the sky, Richard nodded once again to confirm her speculation and he was sure that she knew it. He couldn't find it in himself to speak just yet, because it was in this moment that it finally hit him. The reason that he was doing all of this for her and showing her such an intimate place that held such a close connection to the relationship that he had with his parents, it was all because he was so completely _enamored_ of her. It was with this sudden realization that her eyes shifted from violet to a strange color that had him teetering on the edge of inebriation.

_Wine_. The purest and most refined.

Raven looked at him, and this woman— _this woman_ —she absolutely had him.

"Thank you for bringing me here."

"You're welcome—"

She leaned in to place her lips onto his, and he kissed her right back. Her lips were much softer than he imagined they would be, much more delicate. One would think that such a firecracker's flesh would be a bit tougher to the touch, but the _taste_ of her? It was something so awe-strikingly distinct, a flavor that reminded him of distilled apple cider—sharp and delicious, and so fitting of her and that smart mouth of hers. This was a taste that he wouldn't easily forget, he knew it.

She was breathing hard when they broke apart, her modest chest rising and falling with each soft pant that touched his lips. Her cheeks were tinged with just a hint of rose, a little indication of her slight embarrassment as she fisted the grass beside her with both hands; she brushed the very tip of her nose against his own despite this. Those eyes, the very ones that threatened to intoxicate him were dark and cloudy with an emotion that he had only ever hoped that she would direct at him. Seeing her driven to this point, just by his lips alone, it was beautiful.

"You weren't going to do it first," she spoke after a moment of silence. Her voice was low and quiet, an almost indiscernible whisper; this was a feat for her gravelly voice. Her lips were bright pink and swollen, thoroughly kissed and attended to— _perfect_. "I kissed you. So now, it's your turn."

"Hm. Don't tell me what to do, little one."

"You crooked nosed—"

Richard took her by the chin and kissed her.

Raven missed her curfew that night.


	4. Chapter 4

_warmth._

* * *

  _three._

  _ **.**_

"Damn. I can't wait to feast my eyes on _this_ woman."

Taverns had never been a source of entertainment or relaxation for Richard. Any and every establishment that served its paying customers alcohol until the sun came up never failed to bustle with messy drunkards and trouble. He personally considered both of these things to be the direct inhibitors of both entertainment _and_ relaxation, and yet there he was sitting at the counter of a very messy and troublesome tavern, sharing a drink with the business' owner and primary bartender.

Richard had only met the other man just a few hours ago, and he was already divulging such personal information about himself. To _Garfield_. Such a thing wasn't normal for him, this was out of his character. Hell, merely stepping foot into this tavern was out of character for him. Not one thing about this night was normal for Richard, but he needed a _break_. He was tired from his journey and was admittedly longing for some semblance of normality by doing this; infiltrating such a people filled setting and slipping a bit of alcohol into his system. But it wasn't working. The only thing this little plan of his succeeded in doing was reminding him of what a fool he was—a desperate fool. It was simply reminding him that no matter how hard he would try to mask it, things were not normal. Things were no longer normal, not anymore, and things had not been normal ever since—

Richard shook his head. He needed to rid himself of such thoughts. He hadn't come this far to sulk, he came this far to finish what someone else started. With that final thought solidifying his resolve, he raised the little shot glass up to his mouth and downed the rest of his drink, before regarding Garfield with a glare.

"I'm not telling you about my wife just so you can ogle her in your brain."

The bartender reeled back, offended. He sputtered. "You can't really blame me, can you? With all that 'blueberries and golden grapes' shit you're spouting out. Hell, _I'm_ ready to marry the woman and I've never even seen her before."

Richard tried to ignore that warm feeling of pride churning in the pit of his stomach.

"A love that's able to sway even a stranger's heart, is undoubtedly a strong one.

Garfield simply crossed his arms and arched a brow, while Richard turned to see a young man pulling a chair out to sit beside him.

"Victor," he introduced himself. The new stranger offered them a bright yet sheepish smile, waving a little as he finally sat down. "Forgive me for intruding, but I couldn't help overhearing you speak so... _candidly_ about your wife. You speak so fondly of her and make her sound so wonderful—"

Garfield released an obnoxious scoff.

"—that you make it difficult to believe that she's the bitch that you claim she is."

Garfield made another sound. This one was so unbelieving that Richard had to look at him, only to find the bartender rolling his eyes. "The woman isn't a bitch. She's a _woman_. Pretty boy over here is just a masochist. You're just lucky that she liked you enough to marry you."

The words _marry you_ jarred Richard's memory as the other two men shared a laugh, forcing him to remember exactly why he had come into this tavern in the first place. He simply needed a break— _just_ a break. He didn't come there to share details about his personal life or to make new friends or even to strike up a short and trivial conversation about the weather. _He just needed a break_ , and quite frankly, he couldn't give one single shit about what anyone had to say about his relationship with his wife, much less two strangers he met at some seedy _tavern_.

And time. _Time_.

Richard was wasting his time sitting there and conversing with them, and he needed to go before anymore precious seconds could be wasted. He needed a break. He got his break. And now, his break was over.

It was time to go.

Richard ignored how steadily the other men's laughter was beginning to die out, choosing instead to dig deep into his pocket. He pulled a tiny bag full of coins out and placed it onto the counter in front of Garfield as he briefly considered what a nice break this had been. While it was true that staying there for as long as he did—and telling stories about his wife, no less—had been a waste of his time, he couldn't deny that it was wasted time which fulfilled his need for company after such a long and lonely journey. A _nice_ waste of his time.

Richard reached for the satchel that sat beside his feet, hooking it over his shoulder as he stood. He felt antsy, ready to continue and to persevere; his morale and spirits had been lifted. This was a good feeling, one that he had seriously been lacking. "Thanks for the drinks and conversation. I've got to get going."

A faux-whine slipped past Garfield's mouth as he collected the tiny bag of coins. "Ah, really? Just when story time was getting good? With the way that you two met and how you hated each other on sight, I was actually looking forward to hearing some more about your lovely wife."

"What a coincidence," Richard blurted before he could stop himself. The words came out like vomit, flowing uncontrollably from his mouth. "She's the reason I'm leaving. I've got to find the woman."

This confession immediately pulled a chuckle out of both Garfield and Victor.

"Why?" Victor questioned. "Do you have to go or else she'll throw a grapefruit at your head?"

Garfield's chuckle erupted into a jovial laugh, wheezing and foot stomping galore. "No—No—No! He has to find her before _she_ finds him and he'll be stuck as the _crooked nosed knave_ for a full week!"

"No, you bumbling drunkards," Richard began, his ruffled and angered tone fanning the fire that was pushing the laughter out of the men's mouths. They were joking and playing around, Richard knew it, but he just—Richard couldn't just—Before he could stop it, the very words he had been forcing himself to keep from spilling out of his own mouth finally escaped:

"I have to find my wife because she's been taken."

 


	5. Chapter 5

_warmth._

* * *

  _four_ _._

  _ **.**_

" _Taken_? What do you mean, she's been _taken_?"

" _Kidnapped_ , you mean?"

"Shit. Your wife has been _kidnapped_?"

Richard was rushed into a hallway before he even had the time to register anything that was happening, the noise of the rowdy tavern slowly fading away with each hurried footstep that he took. Faint wax candles lit the ragged hallway from their seats in humble lamp holders that hung along the ceiling's lining; it was very poorly lit and very dim. Yet the few markings and paintings on the walls could still be seen, each one flitting past Richard's vision as the hand wrapped around his wrist tugged him forward with earnest.

Richard was _confused_ , and there was no other word to describe what he felt. He had chosen to visit this tavern because he was _tired_ ; tired and fatigued from his journey. This was the only reason, for it was a long and taxing journey, one that forcibly and quite painfully extracted energy from deep within his spirit in order to thrust him forward—energy necessary to strengthen him on his quest to save his wife.

His wife.

_His wife._

Richard had shared such personal and intimate details of _her_ , and of _them_ , because he was so infinitely distressed. Because he was afraid. Because he was tipsy. _Because he needed to find her._ It was a moment of weakness, and in this one swift moment of weakness that Richard shared with two complete strangers, he was now being led down a meager hallway.

The sound of hot candle wax hitting the floor— _dripdropdripdrop_ —bounced off of his eardrums.

There were quick and hurried footsteps.

Lamps and paintings.

A door.

Low and incoherent mumbles touched the air, before—

"We're going to save her."


	6. Chapter 6

Hello all! I'm so sorry to announce this after an impromptu hiatus, but unfortunately, I've lost every bit of inspiration I once possessed for this story. I can't say that I won't be updating ever again, but at the moment, it really seems unlikely. I'm so sorry to everyone who was into this story! Thank you for all of your support during my time using this account! You guys are the best!


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